


i get so high (every time you're loving me)

by coshie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Latin, Light Bondage, M/M, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 04:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21030326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coshie/pseuds/coshie
Summary: “Oh, it’s notmemaking noise we’re going to have to worry about,” Crowley said delightedly.  He then picked up his unused fork, held it for a minute over the edge of the table, and dropped it very obviously so it bounced under the table.  “Oops.”“Unnecessary,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes.But Crowley was already ducking under the table to “retrieve his fork”.--Crowley decides some shenanigans are necessary during dinner at the Ritz.  Aziraphale retaliates when they get back to the bookshop.





	i get so high (every time you're loving me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maybe_i_dont_want__heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybe_i_dont_want__heaven/gifts).

> for one of my favorite people in the whole world <3 happy birthday boo, here’s some smut 🙃
> 
> \--
> 
> _don't blame me, love made me crazy_  
_if it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right_  
_lord, save me, my drug is my baby_  
_i'd be usin' for the rest of my life_  
\-- "don't blame me" by taylor swift  
(title from the same song)

“Crowley, we have reservations in ten minutes.”

“I can move ‘em, gimme another twenty---”

“Really now, we’d be inconveniencing someone, taking their reservations.”

“They’ll be fine, I’ll make sure they get a promotion at work or something.”

“_Or_ we could just leave now---”

“Five more minutes, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed, running one of his hands through Crowley’s hair and leaning back in his chair, propping his head up with his arm on the arm rest. “You really are insatiable, my dear,” he murmured with a fond smile, trailing his hand down to Crowley’s cheek, then gently tilting his head up. “You’ve just done this last night.”

“Told you, I’d suck you off every day if you’d let me,” Crowley reminded him, stroking the angel’s cock slowly with one hand, smiling. “You’re the best thing I’ve tasted; can’t get enough.”

“Well, as much as I’d like for you to continue, I am also feeling a bit peckish,” Aziraphale said simply. “You may pick this back up again later, and then I shan’t interrupt you.” He pat the demon’s cheek twice, and then nudged him with his knee. “Come on, then.”

Crowley rolled his eyes with a melodramatic groan, but obliged, moving back and then rising to his feet. “It’s a good thing I love you, y’know,” he said, straightening his shirt.

Aziraphale rose as well, tucking himself back into his pants. “Oh, it is a _very_ good thing, my dearest,” he said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “And I am thankful for that every day.”

* * *

As they got into the Bentley, Crowley got an Idea. It was one of those Ideas he got so often around Aziraphale, often involving finding an isolated spot as quickly as possible. This one, however, would be a little different. Isolation was not the goal this time.

“What are you smiling about, my dear?” Aziraphale asked as the Bentley swerved out into traffic.

“Oh, nothing,” Crowley said dismissively, glancing at the angel. “Just, y’know, a joke I heard earlier.”

“Is that right,” Aziraphale said, narrowing his eyes slightly, suspicious. “And would you like to share this joke?”

Crowley glanced at him and grinned. “All right, did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshipper?” he prompted.

Aziraphale sighed.

“He sold his soul to Santa.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes; Crowley laughed. “Very good, my dear,” the angel mumbled, even as a smile tugged at his lips.

“Didn’t say it was a good one,” Crowley said in a teasing tone. “I’ve got more like it.”

“No, that’s quite all right,” Aziraphale stopped him.

So Crowley was left to smile to himself for the rest of the drive. Aziraphale simply let him.

* * *

They were seated at their usual table, but an unfamiliar waitress came to serve them. “How are you this evening?” she asked them, already pouring wine for them.

“Quite well,” Aziraphale responded. “Are you new, my dear? I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being served by you.”

“Yes, I’ve just started last week,” she confirmed. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you two, to be honest. The staff speak very highly of you both. I understand you’ve been coming here for some time.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh my, yes, quite some time indeed. My partner and I,” he reached over and put his hand over Crowley’s on the table; the demon, having zoned out of the niceties, jumped a little, “had our first date here, so it’s a bit of a special place for us.”

“Our first date was in Rome,” Crowley corrected, smirking a little. “Although I suppose one of us didn’t realize it was a date, hm?”

Aziraphale flushed, but ignored the demon. “Regardless, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss?” he prompted.

“Oh, of course, it’s McKayla,” she introduced herself. “And the pleasure’s mine; really, one of the first things they told me about when I started was this couple that’s been coming here for decades, so it’s really quite lovely to meet you.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale murmured, flushing a little. “Did they really?”

Crowley seemed immensely amused by this, however. “Fantastic! Local celebrities we are, aren’t we? So we can just ask for ‘the usual’, then?”

“You can,” McKayla confirmed with a smile. “I’ll go put it in.” And she swept off.

“Has it really been decades?” Aziraphale mused, picking up his wine glass with the hand not still on Crowley’s. “Dear me, how the time flies.”

“First date, hmm?” Crowley teased, turning his hand over so he could give the angel’s a little squeeze. “You invited me out for aphrodisiacs in Rome, _that_ was our first date, no matter what you might think.”

“Oh hush,” Aziraphale shushed him, smiling just so, and sipping his wine. “You can’t deny, however, that this place does hold some nice memories for us.”

“No, you’re right,” Crowley agreed. “First proper meal after Amrageddon, after escaping what would have been death? No, definitely a nice memory. We could make more,” he added with a smirk.

Aziraphale glanced at him. “And how’s that?” he prompted.

Crowley simply grinned. “You’ll see.”

The meal passed as usual. They chatted about nothing in particular as Aziraphale ate, Crowley snatching the occasional bite, both enjoying the wine. Their new waitress was attentive, and quick to anticipate their needs, twice bringing something out before Aziraphale could ask; Aziraphale subtly asked Crowley if the demon was the cause of this, but Crowley merely reiterated his earlier point about being celebrities.

As dessert came around, the Idea Crowley had had in the car came back to him. “You know,” he said at length, twirling his wine glass in his hand, “I’ve always wondered about these tablecloths.”

Aziraphale paused in taking a bite from his cake, and lowered his fork. They were both a little tipsy, but regardless, this seemed to be a complete non sequitur from the conversation they had been having about colonial America. “How’s that, love?” he asked carefully.

“Well, why do they go all the way to the floor?” Crowley asked, setting his glass down. “Seems like they’re just asking for something to be hidden underneath.”

“I… don’t follow,” Aziraphale said slowly, wondering where Crowley was going with this, and having a sneaking suspicion he already knew.

“What’s the point in concealing if nothing’s being concealed?” Crowley said, leaning forward and propping his head up on his elbow to smile at Aziraphale. “You said I had to wait for ‘later’, but you didn’t say when ‘later’ was.”

His suspicions had been correct. Aziraphale flushed pink, and his fork fell from his hand. “Crowley, don’t you _dare_,” he hissed.

“All I’m saying, if I accidentally drop a fork, I might have to go looking for it, and what with the temptation being right there---”

“Crowley, we are in _public_, there are _people_ around.”

Crowley’s smile shifted neatly into a smirk. “There are plenty of other things to occupy their attention,” he pointed out. “All the same, you _would_ have to be careful not to make a scene; we can only do so much without having to resort to managing memories, hmm?”

Aziraphale spluttered in embarrassment, but didn’t seem to be able to form a coherent sentence.

“If you _really_ don’t want me to,” Crowley said with a sigh, “I _suppose_ I could be convinced to wait. But really now, I know you have that thing for exhibition.”

“I do _not_,” the angel said sharply, even as his cheeks darkened.

“Oh really now? So you’re saying, last week when you were groping me all over town while I took you to those exhibits, that _wasn’t_ you enjoying feeling me up in public?”

Aziraphale looked away, lifting his glass to his lips to avoid an answer.

Crowley didn’t need one. “So? What’ll it be?” he prompted with a smirk that had no business being as suggestive as it was. “After all, you’ve enjoyed this wonderful meal. Let me have a taste of one of my favorite things.”

Aziraphale set his glass down very carefully. He shifted slightly in his chair. He picked up his fork. He cleared his throat. “If you make too much noise, I will have you back up here in an instant,” he muttered, finally looking up at Crowley, defiant in spite of the color in his face.

“Oh, it’s not _me_ making noise we’re going to have to worry about,” Crowley said delightedly. He then picked up his unused fork, held it for a minute over the edge of the table, and dropped it very obviously so it bounced under the table. “_Oops_.”

“Unnecessary,” Aziraphale said, rolling his eyes.

But Crowley was already ducking under the table to “retrieve his fork”. Aziraphale took a deep breath, and felt himself tense in anticipation. He would be lying if he said he had never thought about this, about Crowley slipping under the table unnoticed and taking care of him, but the reality was really quite different. Aziraphale was suddenly very aware of how many other diners there were, and how often the waiters seemed to flit by, and how close everyone seemed to be.

After ten seconds that felt much longer, Aziraphale felt hands on his knees that slowly slid up his thighs. He jumped, but steadied himself quickly, taking a bite of his neglected cake. Crowley’s hands were swift, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Aziraphale swallowed heavily, glancing around them. But Crowley kept his word; everyone nearby was very intent on not paying the angel any attention.

So Aziraphale took a deep breath, and decided to focus on his cake. It was, as always, expertly baked, soft and moist, and just the right amount of sweet without being overwhelmingly so. (Crowley stroked his cock lovingly.) The frosting was a wonderful concoction of cream cheese and lemon. (An all-too-familiar serpent’s tongue was teasing over the slit.) The inner layer of lemon curd was, really, just a perfect touch to such an already very pleasant cake. (And then Crowley was taking his cock into his mouth, swallowing him down---)

All attention towards the cake flew from his mind as it decided instead to focus on the always fantastic feeling of the demon’s utterly sinful mouth on him. Aziraphale set his fork down slowly, his hand shaking very slightly from trying to suppress the noises rising in his chest.

“Is the cake to your liking, Mr Fell?”

He felt Crowley exhale a laugh, although the demon did not slow the bobbing of his head. Aziraphale looked up at McKayla, who was smiling patiently at him. “Oh yes, it’s quite good,” he managed. “Very good, in fact, very good indeed.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, unaware of Aziraphale’s crumbling composure. “Mr Crowley has stepped out, then?"

"Oh, he should be back shortly, I believe, just had to, you know, take care of--- of some business, yes," Aziraphale babbled. Crowley pulled back and licked from base to tip, making the angel jump. He laughed awkwardly, waving a dismissive hand towards the concern in McKayla's expression. "Yes, not to worry, everything's just lovely, really."

"If you're sure, then. Is there anything else I can get you for now?”

“Oh no, we should be good for the moment, my dear, yes, thank you,” he assured her quickly as Crowley made a particularly passionate movement in swallowing him back down.

She gave him a little smile, perhaps still a bit concerned, but disappeared once more. Aziraphale glanced around - reflexively, he thought, because everyone else was still not paying him any mind - and slid his hand under the table cloth, and tangled it into Crowley’s hair, tugging slightly. “You _said_,” he hissed under his breath, “attentions drawn elsewhere.”

Crowley pulled back again to answer in a whisper, although Aziraphale still heard it just fine. “Can’t stop our lovely waitress from taking care of us, now can I?”

“You _can_, and you _will_.”

“Oh yes, fine, all right. My sincerest apologies, my angel,” Crowley purred before taking Aziraphale back into his mouth.

Aziraphale left his hand where it was, twined in auburn, forcing Crowley to slow for the moment. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

When he felt a bit of composure return - as much as could be expected in the circumstances, anyway - he wordlessly began to set a pace for Crowley to maintain. Once he was sure the demon would keep it up, he disentangled his hand, and brought it back up above the table, and went back to his cake with as much poise as he could manage.

Vanilla cake with lemon cream cheese frosting and lemon curd filling, paired with a sweet dessert wine, a soft melody lilting from the piano across the room, the cheerful babble of other diners, and a demon sucking him off for all he was worth: Aziraphale might have been embarrassed, but it was all fading rather quickly. Crowley was keeping his word _properly_ now, and no one else so much as glanced towards the angel. Crowley was also doing a spectacular job, as he always did, with his mouth, his tongue always pressing in just the right spot, swirling over the tip with every pass. Aziraphale took another bite of cake, his usual hum of contentment morphed into a moan with the combination of sensations. Crowley had been between his legs during a meal before, but it was something entirely different when they were in public, because the demon had been right: attentions could be drawn away, but that was usually within reason. And Aziraphale didn’t think he was up to redirecting anyone’s attention from anything more than an overzealous moan over cake.

It really didn’t take very long - very likely from being worked up before they left the shop - but Aziraphale had to stop from taking one of the last few bites of his cake as he felt Crowley moan around his cock. He set his fork down with a clatter, and hastily - no heed paid to his surroundings anymore - shoved a hand under the table, gripping Crowley’s hair very tightly; the demon moaned again, mimicking the tight grip to the angel’s thighs.

“Just like that, my love,” Aziraphale murmured under his breath, leaning forward over the table, leaning on his other arm. “Oh, you wicked serpent, making me fall apart at the Ritz.”

Crowley gave one thigh a little squeeze in response; Aziraphale understood it perfectly. One final pass of his tongue, one final bob of his head, and Aziraphale pressed Crowley’s head down into his lap, gritting his teeth hard enough to crack them in an effort to silence the moans and whimpers on the tip of his tongue. Crowley swallowed obediently, dragging his hands down the angel’s thighs in a caress, and kept his mouth in place until Aziraphale finally released his grip. He stayed there for another few moments, listening to Aziraphale try to catch his breath, licking languidly along Aziraphale’s cock, until Aziraphale nudged him away.

Crowley helped tuck him back into his pants, and retreated to the other side of the table, surfacing with a fork in his hand. “Oh look, I found it,” he said with a grin.

Aziraphale was looking a little dazed. “Wonderful, my dear,” he said faintly.

“What, the fork, or the---?” Crowley motioned under the table.

Aziraphale didn’t quite feel the need to answer. He picked up his wine instead.

Crowley simply smirked. “You were quick,” he pressed. “Must have really enjoyed the thrill of almost getting caught, hmm?” he suggested, picking up his own glass.

“You had the brilliant idea to work me up before dinner,” Aziraphale argued. “That’s all.”

“So you’re saying if I went back under there right now, you wouldn’t finish just as quickly?”

“I am saying nothing of the sort, because either way you’d see it as a challenge, and that is not a challenge that needs answering this evening.”

“Oh, _this_ evening?” Crowley leaned forward over the table again, looking very pleased with himself. “So perhaps some other evening, I can slip under there and see how many I can wring from you during the dessert course?”

Aziraphale leveled him with a very patient stare, but a hint of a smile was teased at in his eyes. “We’ll see about that,” he said simply.

Crowley put his hand on the table, palm up, in invitation. “We’ll have to tip the waitress well, won’t we?” he mused.

Aziraphale took his hand, chuckling a little. “I’m afraid I was rather short with her, and she has been so sweet to us. And on her first week, too. Yes, I rather think we should.”

“Tell you what,” Crowley said, brushing his thumb over Aziraphale’s fingers, “I’ll cover dinner, if you promise to give me something properly filling when we get back home.”

Despite the roll of his eyes, Aziraphale was smiling. “You know, I think I might have just the thing,” he said.

* * *

All things considered, they left in a bit of a rush, mostly because Crowley was anxiously ushering Aziraphale towards the exit, even as the angel attempted to give proper farewell to the staff members they passed.

“C’mon, angel, you’ve _promised_ me,” Crowley murmured, very nearly pushing him through the door. “Still half-hard from sucking you off---”

“_Language_, my dear,” Aziraphale says sharply, sounding almost affronted.

Crowley leaned in to hiss into his ear, “I want you to _fuck me_, angel, now let’s go.”

Once back in the Bentley - Aziraphale muttering under his breath about undue profanity - Crowley pulled out onto the street in a maneuver that earned him a sharp rebuke. So he sighed, and slowed down to a measly 60mph.

“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale huffed.

“Look, been a few days since you’ve really had at me properly,” Crowley explained with a lazy shrug. “Didn’t realize how much I’d enjoy sucking you off at the Ritz---”

“I very much doubt that,” Aziraphale interrupted.

Crowley ignored him. “---so you’ll excuse me for being just a little bit anxious to find somewhere where you can bend me over the bonnet and---”

“No,” Aziraphale interrupted again, but this time holding up a hand, which was apparently enough to get Crowley to stop. “Back to the bookshop, I think.”

“But--- but, angel---”

“Bookshop,” he said firmly.

Crowley huffed a sigh, but obeyed. He always would.

* * *

“You’ve kept the bed this time, I hope,” Crowley said as he walked into the shop. “Really don’t understand your aversion to it, considering how often we fuck over here.”

Aziraphale didn’t respond, calmly closing and locking the door behind him, and insuring the “closed” sign was still displayed. Then he shrugged his coat off, carefully hanging it on the coat rack.

“Couch works fine, too,” the demon offered. “Though I do prefer it when you lay me out, and---” He turned to smirk at Aziraphale, only to find the angel was suddenly very close to him, smiling rather serenely, and moving closer still. “A-angel,” he stuttered, surprised.

“I had something different in mind,” Aziraphale said calmly, moving far enough into Crowley’s personal space that Crowley reflexively took a step back. Aziraphale followed, until Crowley found himself with his back pressed against one of the bookshelves. Aziraphale slid in close, slipping one leg between Crowley’s and pressing his thigh into the demon’s crotch, earning a startled moan. “I rather thought I’d have you right here,” Aziraphale purred, reaching up and taking Crowley’s glasses off, setting them on a shelf above his head. Then he caressed down Crowley’s neck, gently taking the demon by his lapels. “What do we think, my love?”

“B-but--- but your books,” was all Crowley could think to stammer.

“Mm,” Aziraphale hummed. Then gripped the lapels and thrust Crowley back against the shelf, rattling said books. Crowley gasped, even as he looked like he might melt. “I rather think they’ll be fine. Romances, you know? They’re quite familiar with what I’d like to do to you.”

“Oh _fuck yes_,” Crowley moaned, reaching over to touch the angel. But before he could, he suddenly found his wrists wrapped with a silk rope, and wrenched upwards, above his head, where the rope fastened itself to an anchor at the top of the shelf that had most definitely not been there before. “_Angel_,” Crowley gasped, looking both shocked and thrilled.

“You took away some of my control at dinner, didn’t you?” Aziraphale asked, sounding rather innocent, even as he began to unbutton the other’s shirt. “I’m only returning the favor. Perhaps, to even the score properly, I should invite some customers in,” he mused.

Crowley laughed uneasily. “O-oh, would you now? Give ‘em a show?”

Aziraphale smiled, running his hands down the demon’s bared torso. “And share this lovely view? No, I don’t think so.” He leaned forward and peppered kisses along the sharp lines of Crowley’s collarbones. “No, _this_ is just for me.”

Within moments, he had relieved Crowley of all clothing below the waist, leaving his shirt hanging open. “Oh, my dear, you _are_ already excited, aren’t you?” he observed with a smirk, brushing his fingers along Crowley’s erection.

Crowley’s hips bucked into the contact, and he struggled against the bindings on his wrists. “Told you I was,” he said, attempting to chase stimulation that Aziraphale was keeping just out of reach.

“And you do never lie to me,” Aziraphale agreed. He shifted in close again, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s jaw and carefully wrapping his hand around his cock. “My lovely demon, how very loyal you are to me, how very _good_ you are for me.”

A whimper spilled from Crowley’s lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “A-angel, please…”

“Please _what_, my dear?” Aziraphale cooed against his skin, stroking very slowly. “Use your words.”

“Please _fuck me_,” Crowley said quickly, opening his eyes to gaze pleadingly at the angel. “Fuck me against this shelf until we knock every single last book off, or-or slow and deep and gentle, like you did last week, just _please_ fuck me.”__

_ __ _

His free hand was already opening his own pants, and Aziraphale chuckled into his neck. “How polite you are. Legs around my waist, then, darling.”

_ __ _

Crowley hastened to comply, momentarily suspending his entire weight from the silk around his wrists as he lifted his legs and hooked them up on Aziraphale’s hips. He was rewarded with the feeling of Aziraphale’s cock, slick and heavy, already pushing against him. “_Oh_,” he gasped. “Oh, th-that’s--- I-I thought---” he mumbled, eyes wide.

_ __ _

Aziraphale smiled, a bit placidly, gently caressing Crowley’s hips. “I thought we might skip ahead a bit, seeing as how anxious you are to have me inside you,” he explained. “Unless you’d like me to take my time, teasing and prepping, and---”

_ __ _

“Shh,” Crowley urged him, trying to push onto his cock. “Lemme take you, _please_.”

_ __ _

“All this begging.” Aziraphale slowly, very slowly, pushed into the demon, who willed his body open, moaning unabashedly, to take the angel. “Here one might think I deprive you,” he murmured. “Oh, don’t you just feel magnificent on me, _oh_.” He leaned up and caught Crowley’s half-open mouth in a kiss, which was eagerly returned.

_ __ _

Aziraphale began to set a pace, slow at first, unhurried. Crowley was still pulling on his bindings, as if trying to get free, and his legs were tightening steadily around the angel, consistenting trying to tug him closer. Aziraphale began to quicken the pace, kisses dropping from Crowley’s mouth to his cheek, jaw, then neck, and he dragged his tongue along the jumping pulse there with a moan, making Crowley throw his head back and revealing his throat.

_ __ _

“This is what you want?” Aziraphale breathed across sensitive skin, going harder; books were wobbling towards the edges of their shelves now. “This is what you’ve begged me for?”

_ __ _

“Yes!” Crowley gasped out. “Yes, angel, oh _yes_, just like this, yes.”

_ __ _

“And you think I should _reward_ you for the stunt you pulled at the Ritz?” Now his tone was drifting into a growl. “Tempting me to _sin_ in a restaurant, in front of a new staff member, no less.” His grip on Crowley’s hips tightened, fingers pressing hard into soft flesh. “My dear, this is _punishment_.” And he pulled almost all of the way out, and slammed himself back in.

_ __ _

Crowley cried out, but was given no reprieve as Aziraphale did the same thing again, and again, over and over, unrelenting and brutal. Crowley couldn’t form anything resembling language, just sobs of ecstasy with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, tears beginning to spill from his eyes.

_ __ _

_ __ _

Several books finally toppled onto the ground. Aziraphale didn’t even glance at them, his entire attention focused on thrusting into the suspended demon as hard as he could, wringing out every last whimper, moan, and sob. Contrary to the harsh motions, he brushed his lips over Crowley’s exposed throat gently, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple. (Humans and their naming conventions; really, quite adorable sometimes.) “_Roga mihi misericordiae, daemonium, et fortasse concendere_,” he purred.[1]

_ __ _

Crowley shivered. Latin might be a dead language for the humans, but he never tired of hearing it from Aziraphale’s tongue. “R-Rome. F-f-first date,” he panted desperately, rolling his hips to meet every motion of the angel’s. Two more books tumbled down.

_ __ _

“_Quidem_,” Aziraphale confirmed, smiling slightly. “_Primum multarum. Tu potes rogare, daemonium meum?_”[2]

_ __ _

“_E-etiam_,” Crowley managed.[3]

_ __ _

“_Ergo roga_,” Aziraphale hissed against his throat.[4]

_ __ _

“_O a-angelum meum!_” he gasped. “_Obsecro, m-mihi--- mihi misericord--- _oh, f-fuck--- _misericordiam te da, ob-obsecro_.”[5]

_ __ _

“_Obedientes serpens_,”[6] Aziraphale praised him. “Even if you did slip some English in there.”

_ __ _

Crowley giggled, nearing his climax as well as overstimulation. “Y-your fault.”

_ __ _

“Mm. Perhaps,” Aziraphale conceded simply. “Will you come for me, my pretty little thing?” he asked, trailing kisses back up to Crowley’s jaw. “I know you’re close.”

_ __ _

“S-so close,” he confirmed; a few more books fell to the floor. “D-d-don’t stop, please, whatever you d-do---”

_ __ _

“_Utique, amica mea_,” Aziraphale cooed.[7] And he didn’t stop; he renewed his grip on Crowley’s hips, and continued with his punishing pace. An entire row of novels abandoned their shelf as one. “Oh, how gorgeous you are like this,” he went on, “flushed and begging, and to think, it’s all for me.”

_ __ _

“Mmn f-for you.”

_ __ _

“That’s right, just for me, this lovely sight. You’re so wonderfully beautiful, sweetheart, even like this. _Especially_ like this.”

_ __ _

“A-angel---”

_ __ _

“Truly, nothing can compare to your exquisiteness, my love, my sweet, my marvelous, handsome serpent.”

_ __ _

“A-ah…”

_ __ _

“That’s right, just like that, there’s a good demon. Come for me, Crowley.”

_ __ _

And so he did, in rather spectacular fashion. Head thrown back, pulling tight on the silk rope, legs shaking from their hold, and his entire body shuddering, Crowley came, spilling onto his stomach, crying out something that sounded rather like the angel’s name, and dislodging at least a half-dozen more books in the process. Aziraphale only slowed his pace when he heard Crowley whimper.

_ __ _

_ __ _

“Truly spectacular,” Aziraphale murmured, nuzzling into the demon’s neck. “Oh, my dear, you always outdo yourself, did you know?”

_ __ _

“Fl-flatterer,” Crowley panted, earning a laugh. “Lemme… lemme down?”

_ __ _

Aziraphale let his legs down slowly, carefully, pulling out of him as he did so. Crowley’s legs were shaking slightly, and as he went to put weight on them, they threatened to collapse underneath him. Even though he was still held up by his wrists, Aziraphale caught him anyway, an arm around his waist.

_ __ _

Crowley laughed, sounding gleeful but exhausted. “Fucked the legs right out from under me,” he said. “Let’s lay down for a bit, til I can walk again.”

_ __ _

“Oh, I don’t know, darling, you do make such a lovely fixture here,” Aziraphale teased, kissing his cheek gently.

_ __ _

“You’d never get any work done, though,” Crowley pointed out, correctly. “You’d be too distracted.”

_ __ _

“So I would be. Very well, to bed it is, for now.” Aziraphale reached up and in a second, had the rope sliding away from Crowley’s wrists, still supporting him as his arms came down around the angel’s shoulders.

_ __ _

Crowley smiled at him, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Your _books_, angel,” he mumbled between kisses. “You fucked me against your books.”

_ __ _

“Technically, against the shelf,” Aziraphale corrected with a glance to the fallen volumes. A sharp wave had them all back in place. “Next time, _you_ will be cleaning them up,” he told Crowley, lifting the demon into his arms entirely, and heading for the stairs at the back of the shop.

_ __ _

“Next time you fuck me until I can’t walk?” Crowley grinned, pleased as anything. “Gladly.”

_ __ _

_ __ _

\--

_ __ _

[1] - Beg me for mercy, demon, and perhaps I will grant it. [return]

_ __ _

[2] - Indeed; first of many. Are you able to beg, my demon? [return]

_ __ _

[3] - Yes. [return]

_ __ _

[4] - Then beg. [return]

_ __ _

[5] - Oh my angel! Please, give me your mercy, please. [return]

_ __ _

[6] - Obedient snake. [return]

_ __ _

[7] - Of course, my love. [return]

_ __ _

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for what’s probably mangled latin. i used a combination of google translate and my notes from two years ago when i actually took latin (i know, right?), so things might be a little wonky. oh well.
> 
> as always, [join me on tumblr](http://effable-ineffability.tumblr.com/) if you wanna read more of my stuff, or if you just want a new friend <3


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